-E.E. Cummings
This poem is in the top 10. I hope to recite this one day to someone special.
"I'd rather be dead than cool."
-Kurt Cobain
By day I go by Karina, but by night I go by, well, Karina. I live in Chicago and I like boring things.
Word By Karina Ask me anything Submit
-Kurt Cobain
By day I go by Karina, but by night I go by, well, Karina. I live in Chicago and I like boring things.
Word By Karina Ask me anything Submit
May 15, 2012
January 18, 2012
"What’chu talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?"
—
Sylvia Plath (via incorrectsylviaplathquotes)
:D Hur muh gawd! I submitted this one! YEEEEE!
September 15, 2011
To See the Sea
To see the sea
is my life’s desire;
a charm of little harm
too far to grasp.
I knew how new
this vision was.
How tender,
how blue,
how so unjust.
Yet,
to see the sea
was my life’s desire.
A charm of little harm, I later discoverd,
too far to grasp.
I knew how new
my vision was.
How blue.
How tender.
And in vein,
how so unjust.
(Source: thegurt)
July 27, 2011
He Was A Ringleader
Open up.
Let me in.
Give a show of such divinity.
Your sacred skin; your holy state,
submerged with greatness and remorse.
Hit the lights.
Cue the music.
Begin your act of balancing the inevitable,
the Wicked,
and the Good.
Step 1, step 2, step 3, step 4.
Down,
down,
down,
down.
With such a great roar who is there to catch you?
Not a soul, not even a single breathe of hope.
What a pity it is so quickly to leave.
Gone with such haste only to be left a mound of impeccable waste.
The satin of your coat as thick and soiled as the knowledge creeping out of your
head.
The music stops.
The setting goes black.
The inevitable has happened, the Wicked come out to play, and the Good is
forever put to rest.
July 9, 2011
To Be Forgiven
I forgive you.
I forgive me.
I forgive who we’ve become,
who we’ve grown to be.
I forgive those long lost nights of hoping that you’ll come by.
I forgive them all,
every single lie.
I forgive your lips for promising freedom.
I forgive my hands for letting you lead them.
I forgive your eyes for lighting my soul like the sun.
I forgive my heart for what its done.
I forgive your car for taking me there.
I forgive my tongue for telling you where.
I forgive the vines that pulled you away.
I forgive my words which caused you to stray.
I forgive those songs that filled my head.
I forgive your voice. I forgive your bed.
But most of all I want you to know that I forgive you, each and every day,
For loving someone like me,
And then pushing her away.
July 9, 2011
Quarters
Tick goes the clock inside your head
Counting off all the minutes ever spent.
This bed is our sanctuary; our one true home.
As emotions evolved, all problems were solved
With just a turn of the cover, a flip of the spread.
Here we lay in this very bed: the fountain of truth.
No judgments held.
No words too soft.
No emotion left unthought-of,
unexplored,
unadorned.
Here we lay in this bed with no start and no finish; just an infinite loop of freedom.
One body empty, the sun begins to shine.
The knot we once were now untangled reveals the end: a vast and soiled area.
The pump has grown rusty contaminating the clarity of the words now cutting me like glass.
Here I lay in this crumbling sanctuary; a home left abandoned and overrun with stunted emotions and dirty sheets.
July 2, 2011
Eight Hours of Turmoil
This dream.
This terrible dream.
This wonderful dream.
This cursed dream.
This enamored dream.
This hate-filled dream.
This wishful dream.
This uncontrollable dream.
This reoccurring dream.
This dream so beautiful I find myself crying in the depths of the night
And yet,
Reality seems to overcome pulling me in once more.
Heart racing, cheeks moist
I awake to the sound of your distant voice.
Mouth dry, palms up I reach for you.
I seek solidarity and encounter only solitude for
Alas, it was all a dream.
June 21, 2011
Le Château de Homme Gentille
From the great love above to the lust and eventual dust.
These are the trying times of man. A mass of bone and flesh held together by a whisper of air.
Our air: you and I.
Souls have seized in existence. The purity once possessed is now gone.
In its place is a bottomless pit filled with various denials.
The denial of man’s true potential,
Man’s power, will, and everlasting innovation.
We fill this empty gap with materialistic loves and extended passions.
But what is it that we gain from such items?
A false sense of hope?
Security?
Belonging?
Or perhaps, nothing and nothing at all.
Truly, these are the trying times of man which can no longer be even called that but rather a mindless heard of drones pacing the crust of this planet.
Such trying times we are faced with, indeed.
May 10, 2011
The Great Spanish Triumph
“Let us play a game,” she said. “You be black and I’ll be blue. You can stack and I’ll jump through. Sun up to sundown, we will forever witness who takes the prize now.”
I accepted the challenge, with the illusion of winning. I went along and played fair, I would have never dared but you. Oh, you. You cheated and brought forth my tragic defeat. It wasn’t fair, you know? You’re little plot. You’re desire to watch me loose and rot.
I pick up a card, it reads Jump 3. I take my turn unaware of my already outlined derailing. I take the lead when you decide you are in dire need of some attention; a bit of retention. Your turn comes around, in which there are no eyes to surround. You take your play and slide it under. Oh, my dearest! You truly are a wonder.
“Jump 4,” you grin, taking lead. Your teeth reeking envy and betrayal.
The clock is ticking. Our game is coming to a close. You have it hooked along right by the nose.
Does it truly hurt you that bad to know that I have the upper hand? I can’t say I fully understand your fraudulent ways but nonetheless I declare:
“Congratulations. You have, in fact, won.”
Not knowing of my knowledge concerning her ways, she takes my hand, gleaming with pride.
“Thank you,” she accepts. “It was quite a match.”
“Such a match,” I continue, “that I propose a toast in celebration. To you my fair companion.”
She accepts the facsimile glory. I take the bottle and fill her glass to the brim. And as any game of cat-and-mouse, my turn has come full circle. You see, I too have my own way of winning. I proceed with my turn, dropping it right into her sparkling crystal.
“To you,” I announce, passing her her sipping of triumph. “May the victor claim the sweet spoils.”
“To me,” she boasts drinking away her winnings. Biting my lip, I watch with satisfaction. For you see, I too have my own strategies.
To you old girl. To you…
“Cheers.”
May 10, 2011
Radicchio Waves
I heard you through the radio; your breathe smelled of scotch and imaginative inventions.
It is impossible to mistake that foul stare even when amongst the most vicious of our
race.
I tuned in for a bit of escape, but received instead your cold feel. You reached
through the static and went right for the core.
The icy grip too much for me, I collapse to the floor. The ache is beyond unbearable; excruciating
even for the hardest of hearts.
As I lay on the bitter ground, holding my chest in a futile attempt to summon even the slightest
pinch of warmth, it befell.
My infinite blindness had been lifted.
I screamed in agony, likely waking the most rotted of corpses. I knew what had to be done, yet I
refused to open my newly healed eyes and heart to it. It was not that I didn’t want to but more
that I was fervently incapable.
Little by little, I came around in an attempt to fulfill the vision.
I looked up and squirmed at the sight of your indifferent eyes. The very ones that time and time
again spoke to me.
And spoke to them.
One swipe. One single swift, powerful, and almost impossible swipe was all it took to relieve myself of your devilish
burden.
Just one.
Go on, said the voice. Pick up the dagger and assail.
Laying helplessly, I summoned the wisdom of Gea, mother of all.
My child, she spoke, do as you desire and feel fit. Find it in you to do what is right and put to
rest the wrongs of your ambit.
Of course.
I took one last look in your eyes, hoping to unmask even the slightest trace of you, but instead fall upon a
monster; a creature not of this time; a complete and utter stranger.
I refuse to let you walk away in splendor. Closing my eyes, I pick up the dagger and taking one final
look at you, I draw forth an abrupt and commanding blow.
The end has arrived.
Your body begins to tremble in disbelief as you stare stunned with the events that have just played
out. Slowly, your grip loosens and begin to draw back your arm.
Fully in tact and unharmed.
I lay there with the dagger bulging from my abdomen gasping, begging for that dulcet escape.
All the wrongs of my realm have now been laid to a sweet slumber but at far too high a price.
A price so high that I sacrificed myself for the sake of you.
The sake of a monster,
A creature not of this time,
A complete and utter stranger.
April 23, 2011
One Thousand Demons
As delicate as a petal,
As soft as a whisper.
The Ghost wanders freely.
It’s ecto seeps in through my nostrils
And rots my insides.
My surroundings turn to ice and I become
Trapped.
This winter palace will let me leave, not.
I am frozen.
Unable to speak,
Think,
Feel.
Frantically screaming, I see no escape.
No doorway.
No hope.
I played with fire and now
Reap my rewards.
These bloody tokens of wonder leave me
Stained.
I am a murderer, fore the blood of those who believed
Cover my body.
Listen carefully as their mournful yaunts yet haunt the airways.
I am a murderer, I.
I became overcame,
And for this,
I now reap my rewards.
April 18, 2011
The Gun.
I dreamt a dream of Ivory.
Filled with lavish delight and perishing heights.
The breeze cold,
Wet,
and calm.
The sirens rang.
The gun was cocked and with a silent click,
Bang.
The clouds appeared and washed away the sin.
The filth.
And with the rain, I went too.
A simple,
slow death.
April 17, 2011
The Effects of Time
I noticed at first, but thought I was overreacting. I notice it again but simply shrug it off. I now see it, full frontal, and realize
I was correct.
Who are you? Where did you go? Who did this to you,
I need to know.
So you have fancy hats and fancy mats.
Glitter shoes and you smoke now too?
I’ve been sleeping with a stranger, too terrified to move.
With your foreign words and new philosophy.
You absorbed the world you so much refused to be a part of.
Now look at you. The simple sight disturbs me.
You let in. You didn’t refuse.
The issue is done.
Laid to rest.
Now look at you.
April 11, 2011
A Flock Too Little.
Spare me Oh! Wicked Beast for I have done nothing to offend thee.
Are you yet not satisfied with your sheep’s’ count that you have to come and
Destroy my minimal flock?
What have I said to add such insult to your injury?
Leave me and my humblest of lifestyles for there is nothing more than
what has already been offered.
In these animals are is found my very being:
My blood.
My flesh.
My tears.
For what insignificant reason am I not allowed to enjoy what I have tried to tirelessly bring to life?
Why Beast?
Why?
I drop to my acheing knees, your Wickedness, and beg you…
Let me breathe.
Please,
Let me live.
April 10, 2011
The Barriers and The Beyond.
To look beyond our Earthly barriers is to see the light.
To enter the abyss is to regerss back to the oppression of one’s self.
Aiming higher than what is in reach can only lead to failure,
While aiming below level only leaves the question,
“What if…?”
Too long unaswered.
I want to know what lays beyond.
Beyond this ignorance, bias, hate, and betrayl.
What is beyond these county lines?
What forbidden treausures have been so long hidden from my grasp?
Will they hurt?
Are they red?
Will they make me cry?
Am I not amongst the chosen one’s to discover and grow from such a pondering wonder?
Are not I not as good as anyone to know?
I?
I posses the the need,
the want,
the desire.
Are not I as good as them to know?
Are not I?
Is it my height?
Nose?
Fingers?
Toes?
Am I too dark? Too light?
Or perhaps,
Is it you?
Are you what’s going to hurt me?
Are you actually blue, not red?
Are you already certain that you will make me cry?
How long have you known?
How long have you known that i was meant to discover and grow?
How long?
All along, you already knew.
You.
You already knew.
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